


When you call me fuckin' dumb for the stupid shit I do

by FreshPrincessofCheyne



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics), Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Bruce swears a lot, Confessions, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Kissing, M/M, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-28
Updated: 2016-04-28
Packaged: 2018-06-05 02:29:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6685639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreshPrincessofCheyne/pseuds/FreshPrincessofCheyne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce loves to call Clark dumb, but Clark knows Bruce means something else entirely when he does it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When you call me fuckin' dumb for the stupid shit I do

**Author's Note:**

> This drabble is inspired heavily by the song Training Wheels by Melanie Martinez and the title is FROM THE SONG BECAUSE I SUCK AT TITLES SO BAD. Anyway, I recommend listening to it while reading this, only if you want too though! Okay, I've also been having some issues with POV because I usually write in the past tense and ever since my teacher asked me to write in the present tense, it's really been fucking me up and it's so frustrating, because I've never had an issue with POV before and believed I was pretty good at it, so if you seen any mistakes, I'm sorry.  
> That aside, I hope you enjoy!! Love all of you so much and all of your support is awesome!!

Usually, when someone's eyes twinkled in admiration for another special someone, it was over things like praises, a surprise confession, or even signs of affection. With Clark, when his eyes lit up because of that someone, it wasn't exactly because of  _that_.

“You're fucking dumb.” Now that, _that_ was what made Clark's head swim- made his eyes swirl like waves during a storm, his heart pound like the thunder above, thoughts just as foggy and thick as those clouds, just as gray.

However, when Bruce continued to speak- “You do a helluva lot of stupid shit, Clark. But what you did today, that was _pure_ stupid. For the love of God, has all the kryptonite exposure rotted your brain?” -those clouds weren't gray anymore, but a gentle orange merged with white, pink laced at it's edges, light and fluffy, early and sunny, opening the sky and making it clearer. No matter how confusing things got, Bruce's words, _Bruce in general_ , always cleared the way.

“I can't even begin to explain how utterly stupid you are. Maybe even dumber than Ultraman, and let me tell you, that asshole is fucking  _dumb_.”

Clark's mouth remained sealed, like Bruce's words each stuck a needle in his lips and pulled them together with thread.

Bruce was pacing, back and forth, like he was trying to hypnotize Clark and hell, it was working. Clark, with glassy eyes, focused on the steady _lub-dub_ of Bruce's heart, and tried to count the times Bruce's words matched the rhythm Clark memorized. “I _specifically_ told you to follow orders, and actually operate with the team. And what do you do? Disregard everything I say and get yourself hurt trying to protect me. Stupid, stupid, _stupid_.”

“If you could only see- could only _hear_ \- the song of your heart and it's worth, Bruce, you'd want to save it, too,” Clark whispered, fingers fiddling with the bandaged bullet wound above his left pectoral. 

“I can't hear you when you mumble!” Bruce said, ice dangling from his words. He threw his hands up in the air when Clark only stared at him, that stupid, doe-eyed stare, and stomped off towards the bat computer, huffing as he went. “You're unbelievable. And unbelievably _stupid_.”

Clark smiled softly, feeling giddy, stomach light, and he curled his toes, fingers drumming against the med-bay cot. No amount of sunlight or sunlamps (like the ones that revived Clark), could ever offer him the warmth that Bruce did, could never make him sweat, never make him feel sleepy, make him feel so _goddamn_ thrilled and weightless. Bruce made Clark feel like he could fly wherever, whenever, and at a speed he never thought he could reach. Bruce was the dive Clark made in the sky, the dive that littered his skin with goosebumps, sent his heart for a trip to his stomach, and watered his eyes.

Clark remembered how the others were angered with the way Bruce treated Clark; with so much disrespect and he was constantly being told to stand up to Bruce, even if he was his friend or not. Clark would always tell the others -the league, his friends, family- that he appreciated Bruce's signs of affection and _oh_ , would he ever receive the strangest looks. They seemed to think Clark was an idiot, and he truly wasn't. It was as simple as knowing someone better than anyone else, even better than themselves. How could he expect them to understand, when they've never fallen so hard for someone like Bruce?

Clark must have drifted for a while, because Bruce was now standing in front of him, stripped to the elastic-fiber suit underneath, and he was slipping his fingers under Clark's arm as Clark got to his feet.

“You need rest,” was all Bruce said, and Clark, well, his eyes glazed over Bruce's body and the way the suit curled around his curves and impressive muscles, and all he could smell was Bruce's black orchid, musky scent, and that's when Clark's knees gave out.

“Clark!” Bruce's other hand went to wrap around his bare waist and the room began to spin and Clark's heart felt light- and suddenly it was too hot and he could feel sweat bead on his forehead and above his upper lip. When Bruce placed a hand on Clark's naked stomach, he knew it would be the death of him as the heat began to pool in his abdomen and _no_ , that wasn't good, he was wearing sweatpants and if Bruce looked, it would be the end for him. 

“Get back. You need more light.” He gently shoved Clark until he hit the edge of the cot, and he refused to go any further so Bruce's hand slipped lower by mistake, and he practically fell into Clark. He could feel Bruce's breath on his collarbone, and a shiver rattled his bones; maybe even worse then the bullet did earlier that day. Bruce and Clark both eyed Bruce's hand, where it was splayed wide on his hot, toned stomach.

Bruce patted it awkwardly, and averted his eyes, sliding the hand back up Clark's chest. “You _uh_ \- you need more rest,” He said again.

Clark's voice was a cracked whisper. “I can make it upstairs.” _It wasn't my wounds that made me weak_ , he wanted to say, _it was you. Only you. You're my greatest weakness._

“No. For once, you idiot, just  _listen to me_.”

“Please.”

Bruce's eyes met with Clark's, surprised with the desperation he heard, and he gave Clark's chest another pat and nodded. “Okay.”

By the time they made it to the guest room, Bruce's breath warm on Clark's neck the whole way up, a strong arm around his waist, he was sure he would pass out. Bruce helped get Clark to bed, made sure he was comfortable and as he was leaving, he paused at the door, words caught in his throat. Clark watched as Bruce's fingers tightened around the frame, his silhouette outlined by the dim light from the hall. Bruce left with a sigh, and shut the door gently behind him. Clark felt disappointed. He couldn't pinpoint why.

For the first hour or two, Clark lay awake, listening to Bruce's heart, waiting for it to lull him to sleep. It refused to be quiet, and spoke loudly to Clark, as if saying _come, see me, come see how fast it beats for you._

Clark only wished he could respond. Instead, with an ache in his chest (not from the wound, either), he drifted to sleep.

Bruce found himself back at Clark's door, around four that morning. Bruce caught himself stepping back, hesitant, then he stepped forward again. Raised his hand.

He didn't knock. If Clark was awake, he already heard him. If he was asleep, Bruce could go back and he'd never know, and Bruce could act like he never even got out of bed. However, that wasn't what he did and as he gently turned the knob, he tightly shut his eyes as he pushed open the door. When he opened his eyes, Clark was sleeping on his stomach, face hidden by the pillows. His body moved with deep breaths.

Bruce moved quietly, slowly, until he was standing over Clark. For a while, Bruce watched him, the steady rise and fall of his body, the occasional twitch of his lips. Watched, and imagined he was lying at his side, hot but comfortable, and  _safe_. Bruce rarely felt safe, but whenever he was with Clark, he did.

He eventually sunk into the bed, at Clark's side, fingertips not quite touching his bare back, but drawing patterns above it in the air. He opened his mouth to speak. No words came out, and instead, he found himself lifting a leg over Clark's body and straddling his back. Clark made a sleepy noise, and stirred a little, but besides that he was still asleep. With hands softly holding Clark's hips, Bruce leaned forward and kissed between Clark's shoulders. He ran his fingers over the curves and muscles of his back, kissing wherever his hands passed. A part of him wanted Clark to wake up. A part of him didn't want him to wake up. Bruce knew what part of him was more dominate.

“I hope you know,” Bruce whispered into his skin, “I show- I show it differently than others.” A long pause, one where Bruce's lips remained on Clark's lower back. “I'm not good at saying it. I'm not good at showing it. But for you, Kal, I think you've given me the strength to say it.” Another pause, one where Bruce breathed in deeply, heart in his throat. He was out of breath. He felt dizzy. He kissed Clark's back again, as light as a butterfly's fluttering wings.

“ _I love you_.”

For a second, as he was suddenly being moved, he cried out in surprise when Clark rolled over, Bruce's heart stopping where it sat in his throat, his eyes widening to match the size of the moon. Clark shifted so Bruce was now perched in his lap and he was sitting up, arms wrapped around Bruce, eyes alert. Bruce sucked in a gasped breath, and his fingers tightened where they grip Clark's arms, legs wrapping around his waist. The two of them are breathing wildly, and for a moment, neither move or look away.

Clark's eyes are the colour of the sky Bruce's envies, the sky he can't touch, but maybe when he was with Clark, he could touch it.

Then, moving forward slow as if he were afraid of startling Bruce (more than he did already), his glance shifted from Bruce's eyes and to his lips, silently asking for permission. Bruce responded by sliding a hand around Clark's neck and into the nape of his hair, the other on his shoulder, holding firmly. Clark, still a bit scared, leaned towards Bruce, and paused, breath warm on one another's lips, the rest of their bodies shivering in anticipation. 

Bruce's fingers massaged Clark's shoulder, urging him on. Clark closed the space, practically purring when his lips finally met Bruce's, and Bruce's fingers stroked his hair, that was sticking up in different, messy directions. There's a breath before the kiss, and their hearts are so loud and alive it's like they can taste, feel the beats as they kissed. They giggled too, and for a moment, Bruce had to pull away when he laughed, all chimes and melody's and then its cut off by Clark's lips again. They're both nervous, fingers shaking where they hold each other, stomachs that seem to have dropped, breaking open and spreading like bees, stinging and tingling each and every limb. Clark, who goes weak, fell back onto the bed, Bruce clinging tighter, kissing harder.

When they pulled apart, a beautiful mess each, Clark smiled and Bruce tucked himself at Clark's side, tracing patterns like he did on his back earlier.

“I was waiting for you. I've been waiting more than just one night.”

Bruce stopped tracing patterns and pursed his lips. “You should've said something sooner,” Bruce mumbled sleepily. “Fuckin' dumb.”

Clark smiled. “I love you, too, Bruce.” He put his fingers under Bruce's chin and lifted it, ducking to catch his lips. He breathed against them and repeated, “I love you, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a huge sucker for the fact that Clark can hear Bruce's heart anywhere, and even remembers it. I love that and it's why it almost always shows up in my Superbat stories, lol. I hope you enjoyed this short fic!!


End file.
